


Before I Get Really Cross

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Daddy greg, Little Sherlock, M/M, Sherlock is naughty, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is naughty and Greg is there to dole out punishment. And porn. Mostly porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before I Get Really Cross

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).



> For my lovely yarnjunkie, who emailed me a fantastic picture of Greg last night and got this bee in my bonnet.

Greg was having a hard day. Now that he thought of it it seemed that he only ever had hard days. Was that really what his life had become? One hard day after another? What he really needed was to go on holiday. Get a tan. Get some bloody sleep. But that's besides the point. 

Greg was having a hard day, so when it was time to go home he left the office in hopes of a cold beer and a match. He had three waiting at home on his DVR, and he was especially looking forward to the Chelsea v Liverpool match. He positively ached to see Suarez take an elbow to the face. Flop all you want now, cock! 

The first sign of trouble was that the front door was open. Not just unlocked, but unlatched and wide open. If he didn't know better he'd be readying himself to go up against a burglar. He knew better. He lived with Sherlock. 

"Sherlock why in the bloody-" He began as he walked through the front door. 

Sherlock was bent over the telly with a dark rag, rubbing vigorously in circles. He looked up when he heard his name. The second sign of trouble was the fact that Sherlock left eyebrow was almost completely singed off. 

"Greg! You're home early!" He shouted. 

(The third, fourth and fifth sign of trouble are listed respectively below. 

Sherlock remembered to call Greg by his first name. 

Sherlock had known when Greg would be home. 

Sherlock wasn't wearing pants.) 

Greg turned around and closed the door behind him, bolting it and closing his eyes. 

"All I wanted was to come home and watch a match. That's all." He said pitifully. 

"I'm sorry Greg-" Sherlock began. 

"Why are you trying to buff out a hole in the telly with no pants on?" Greg shouted. 

"Well, the caustic liquid I'd set fire to got on my trousers so I took them off and when it dripped again onto my pants I ripped them off as well and threw them across the room...into the telly." Sherlock said, head bowed. 

"You get points for telling the truth right away." Greg said, sighing loudly and moving to sit in his armchair. 

Sherlock smiled and stood up straight. 

"Not that many points, young man! You should still look like a kicked puppy!" Greg growled. 

Sherlock stood silent, eyes averted, and waited for his punishment. He felt horrible, he really did. Not so much for the property damage...okay, not at all for the property damage...but because his experiment went bad. Almost 'chemical castration' bad. He winced at the memory of the material of his trousers melting away. 

"I think you need a spanking." Greg said, rubbing his temples and trying to soothe himself. 

"No!" Sherlock spat. 

Well fucking hell, should have known. Wasn't bad enough to have the telly broken and Sherlock shaking his bits for the neighbors, but he was in a bratty mood as well. As much as Greg might have liked it another day, this kind of behavior was not something he needed right then. 

"Now, Sherlock, come sit here on Daddy's lap like a good boy before I get really cross." Greg said, patting his lap and giving Sherlock his best authoritative stare. 

Sherlock clenched and unclenched his hands, digging his nails into his palms and looking around the room. Greg didn't like the way this was going. 

"If you run outside with no pants I swear you won't be able to sit for another two months!" Greg warned. 

Sherlock's bottom lip began to tremble but Greg stayed strong. When he saw Greg was standing his ground he walked nervously forward. 

"That's right, on my lap now, lad. Bit fortuitous that you lost your pants, isn't it?" Greg said. 

Sherlock lay across Greg's lap, already hardening cock hanging between Greg's thighs. Greg rubbed a hand over his arsecheek gently and Sherlock tensed up. 

"None of that. You know it'll hurt more if you don't relax." Greg said sternly. 

Sherlock did his best to make his body slack and closed his eyes. 

"You get ten for breaking the telly and ten more for running around half naked." 

Sherlock's started to protest but Greg simply brought his hand down hard on his left buttock. Sherlock hissed and bucked. 

"What do you say?" Greg prompted. 

"One, sir." Sherlock whimpered. 

Greg brought his hand down a second time. 

"Two, sir." Sherlock hissed. 

By the time they made it to seventeen Sherlock was crying loudly, snot dripping from his nose. 

"Three more, love." Greg said quietly. 

He spanked him in quick succession and Sherlock cried louder. 

"Eight-t-teen, nineteen, twe-e-enty, sir." He whispered, voice pinched from his stopped up nose. 

"Hush, come here. Oh, love, you did so well." Greg said, helping Sherlock up so he could sit straddling him. 

Sherlock hissed when he sat down and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Greg ran his hands up and down his arms soothingly. 

"Do you want Daddy to touch you, son?" Greg asked, already knowing the answer. 

Sherlock nodded quickly, eyebrows knit together. 

Greg unzipped his trousers and reached into his pants to pull out his own aching cock then pulled Sherlock's hips closer so he could take them both in hand. The younger man was leaking copiously so Greg used the fluid to coat both their cocks. Sherlock moaned loudly and let his head fall back. Greg ran his thumb along the leaking head of the young man's prick and caused him to buck up against it. 

He set up a bruising rhythm, trying to get them both off quickly so he could see to Sherlock's arse. Sherlock was keening wildly and mumbling nonsense. He stroked quickly and tightened his grip, feeling his own orgasm coming and started to thrust into his own hand. 

The movements bounced Sherlock in his lap and Sherlock came, painting Greg's shirt and crying in pain. Greg moaned loudly at the new slickness Sherlock's come provided and came seconds later. 

Sherlock lay his head on Greg's shoulder, panting and whispering. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." 

Greg ran his hands up and down Sherlock's back. "I know love, you did so well. It's okay, you're not in trouble anymore. Good boy, sweet boy." 

After a few minutes Greg motioned for Sherlock to get up so they could take a shower. He took the younger man by the hand and walked him to the shower, trying to hide his smile at seeing him hobble. 

The shower was quick and Greg dried Sherlock carefully and lay him on his stomach on the bed. He took out the soothing balm he kept in the bedside table and rubbed it gently all over Sherlock's arsecheeks. By the time he was done Sherlock was asleep, and looked almost innocent.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by
> 
> http://taylorpotato.tumblr.com/post/84991959575/random-question


End file.
